


13 Days for 13 Dwarves

by iscatterthemintimeandspace



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: F/M, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-18
Updated: 2014-11-29
Packaged: 2018-02-26 04:05:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 13
Words: 10,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2637347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iscatterthemintimeandspace/pseuds/iscatterthemintimeandspace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>13 Days for 13 Dwarves: A collection of drabbles highlighting every dwarf of the Company of Thorin Oakenshield with a chapter! Please enjoy!</p><p>To find out more about 13 Days for 13 Dwarves, please go to:<br/></p><p>http://13daysfor13dwarves.tumblr.com/</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Kili

**Author's Note:**

> Day 1: Kili- November 18, 2014
> 
> Prompt: Modern Stripper AU

He rolled his hips as he took the stage, feeling the music flow through him like an extension of his body. Kili heard the DJ announcing him, heard his routine music start, blending with the ending notes of the previous song. 

He started off slowly, looping his leg around the pole, his hand anchoring him as he swung. The crowd around him went wild, hollering and whistling as he took another rotation. He came off the pole when he landed, rolling his hips as his nimble fingers made quick work of the buttons on his costume. 

He gyrated a bit, moving his hips up and down, caressing the sides of his body. Kili drew a coy finger up his exposed abdomen, lingering salaciously on his abs. 

The brunet was dressed as Robin Hood, with a green jacket over tight shorts and knee high brown boots. He slipped the top half slowly off his biceps , looking seductively over his shoulder at the patrons in the audience. He approached the edge of the stage, twirling the jacket lightly over his head. Closing his eyes, he let his body take over, feeling the rhythm wash over his tanned skin. It felt like sex to him, the adoration pumping his body full like a lover would. 

Kili bent forward, ripping the elastic from his long hair. Curls spiraled over his shoulders and down his back. He swung his head around, rolling his hips to follow. Without looking, he could feel all eyes on him, caressing his form, undressing him with their gaze.

He slid to his knees, gazing into the audience again, focusing on each table, one at a time. It was a slow night, there were only about ten people in the whole place. It was still early yet and this was only Kili’s first set, he was just warming up. 

Pressing his thighs against the cool wood of the stage, the brunet leaned back, throwing his hair over his shoulders. He thrust upwards, flashing the crowd a winning smile. A few of them scurried closer, timidly tucking dollar bills in his waistband. 

Smirking, Kili slipped off the stage, sauntering between tables as eager patrons waved money at him. A blond in the corner waving a caught his attention first. Promising laters and afters to the other clients, he moved towards the back with the grace of a young lion, sultry and confident. 

The man was dressed all in black, with short golden curls frothing out from under his beanie. The club was so dark that Kili couldn’t quite make out his features but something in the man attracted him, beckoning him closer. He slipped onto the man’s lap. 

“What’ll it be then ?” the brunet asked cheekily, grinding his bottom on the man’s leg. 

“Just a lap dance please,” the blond said politely, his voice husky with want. 

Kili grinned again. The knowledge he was desirable intoxicated him, warm pleasure spreading languidly to his limbs. He climbed across and straddled the man’s lap, rubbing up against him lewdly. The man chuckled, and for the first time, Kili could see his face — the familiar curve of his jaw, the accustom slope of his nose, the startling blue of his blond- fringed eyes. 

The brunet tried to pull away sharply but was held fast by the man’s hand around his arm. 

“Hello, Kee. Now is that the way to greet your big brother?”


	2. Oin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oin's thoughts on his nephew's addition to the Fellowship of the Ring

“I can't believe you are letting him go!” Oin shouted at his brother. He paced the rooms the elves had let them use, his agitated hands flying. 

“He's a grown dwarf, Oin, what would you have me do?” Gloin protested, sitting on the balcony, his legs dangling over the edge. His color was high after all the hubbub that had gone on down at the council meeting. They hadn't had that kind of excitement in ages. 

“Stop him! This is a fool's errand,” the healer argued. He didn't even need his ear-horn at the volumes they were speaking. He supposed they ought to be quiet, as their voices carried well across the courtyard, but Oin didn't have it in him to care. 

“He's not one to back down, my Gimli,” Gloin said fondly. The older dwarrow knew how proud his brother was of the boy. Oin was fiercely proud of his nephew too, but it wasn't worth seeing him dead. He'd seen far too many young dwarrow fall due to the vain over-confidence of their kin. He would not do it with Gimli. 

“Did you not recognize the blond elf at the council? Thranduil's son, that is. I would not trust him with Gimli's life for all the gold in Erebor…” 

“Aye, if it was just the two of them, I would worry, but there will be others,” Gloin replied. “Gimli could take that tree-shagger with a hand behind his back.”

Oin wanted to scream. There was no getting through to his brother, no getting past his stubborn pride. If he couldn't convince Gloin to talk to his nephew, he would talk to the boy himself, and end this nonsense once and for all. 

He found Gimli cleaning his axe by the fountain, scowling at the elven minstrels walking by with their harps. The healer gazed at the fountain, remembering another time, another hopeless quest. 

Years ago, he had sat in Elrond's halls watching in amusement as the younger dwarrows sparred naked in the same place, drunk on their adventures and barrels of elvish wine. Oin's heart constricted as he thought of Thorin's nephews, cut off before their prime, sent back to the stone prematurely. 

“Gimli,” he started, looking over the red-headed dwarf fondly. 

“I'm going, Uncle,” Gimli said, looking up from his task. It would seem he was already prepared for what his uncle was going to say. 

“Oh, please don't go,” the healer croaked, all the bravado taken out of him by his nephew's proactive attack. 

“I'm not a child anymore, Uncle. You stopped me from going to reclaim Erebor. Fili and Kili-”

“Fili and Kili are dead because of that quest!” Oin said harshly. He knew it better than anyone, he had been the one to see the boys die. “I won't have that be you!” 

“I won't be the one delivering your things to your mother,” he continued, his voice on the edge of hysterics. 

Gimli suddenly went very still and then looked up into his uncle's eyes. Oin immediately regretted mentioning Fili and Kili. Gimli had been inconsolable for weeks when he found out about their passing. 

“I have to do this, Uncle,” the younger dwarf murmured quietly. “This is bigger than us, bigger than Erebor. I have to see this done.” 

“Why you?” Oin retorted, taking a seat on the fountain’s edge. “There are plenty of other dwarrow willing to go.”

“Because of you,” Gimli replied, his voice heavy with emotion. “And Amad and Adad. I couldn't look at you, knowing I'd shirked my responsibility to protect you. I'd fall protecting you, just like _they_ did.”

The old healer could feel the tears in his eyes start to form and knew he had been beaten. He leaned his head in, touching his forehead against his nephew's. 

“Return to me,” he said simply. 

“I promise,”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to my wonderful beta, as always. I adore her. 
> 
> See you guys tomorrow!


	3. Dwalin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 3 (20st): Dwalin- Dwalin. He's the reason Ori is slightly cross-eyed. Some accidental injury on the head while training or horsing around with Thorin. Dwalin's felt guilty about it ever since, and he taught Ori to use the slingshot as a coordination / distance assessment exercise.

Dwalin dragged his feet as he approached the training field. This session was always his least favorite. He saw his pupil, cumbersomely dressed, with his badly braided, jagged red hair waiting for him, under the shade of a large tree. The boy had his nose stuck in a book, quill flying across the page as he scribbled. 

The warrior sighed heavily as he approached Ori. It wasn’t the boy’s fault he was so uncoordinated. Truth be told, it was Dwalin’s, and he had never stopped trying to make up for what he’d done. 

He had been down with Thorin at the marketplace one summer's day when a mischevious red-headed youth had decided it was a good idea to pelt the king's friend with fish. Dwalin had taken off after the trouble-maker, oblivious to the fact the lad's little brother was with him, left behind on the street and calling after him. In his haste to get to the little thief, Dwalin had overlooked the child and knocked him flat. Little Ori had smashed his head on a paving stone.

Even though Dori, the boy's eldest brother had promised his eyes had always been crossed like that, Dwalin could tell by the fretful look in his eyes that he was lying. He was just too afraid of the guard, and what he might do, if he said that Dwalin had hurt the boy. He had made the middle brother, Nori apologize before herding the ragged youngsters home. 

Dwalin had agonized for days over the fate of the child. He didn't often show it, but he had a soft spot for children that belayed his frightening apperance. He had tried to make up for it at first with gifts of food and money, which they sorely needed, but Dori refused. The dwarrow had too much pride to take hand-outs, especially when Nori had been the cause of the trouble in the first place. Dwalin started spending time with them instead. It had taken a long time for Dori to admit what dire straits the deaths of their parents had left them in and how much he wished to send little Ori to school. 

Dwalin had immediately arranged for Ori to study with the young princes as soon as they were old enough, and when the lad began surpassing Fili and Kili in their lessons, for him to apprentice under his brother Balin. It had taken some convincing, but once the King's advisor had seen the boy’s promise, he’d agreed. Yet, Dwalin still didn't feel as if he'd done enough. 

After witnessing Ori being bullied by some of the other apprentices, his latest endeavor was trying to teach the boy how to defend himself. The sword and bow had not gone as well as he had hoped. Ori could barely pick up the training sword, let alone the real one, and his arrows hadn't hit anything but dirt. 

The guard had racked his brain, trying to find something the boy could use, but a dwarf's traditional arsenal was just too unwieldy for a dwarf with no coordination. He had almost given up until Balin had suggested something. Dwalin had scoffed at his brother for even suggesting the thing could be used as a weapon, but Balin had insisted. 

“Good morning, lad,” the warrior greeted the scribe. At once, Ori was on his feet, glancing balefully at Dwalin, looking almost eager to get the day's humiliation over with. The guard sighed, Ori always looked terrified when he looked at the larger dwarrow. Dwalin had tried to exlplain to the lad time and time again he wouldn't hurt him, but the fear was hard for the boy to overcome. They'd made baby steps, but still Ori looked as if Dwalin might hurt him. The larger dwarrow tried to keep his patience but in absence of any headway with the boy, it inevitably got away from him day after day. 

“G-Good morning, M-Mister Dwalin,” the scribe stuttered, looking at his feet. 

“I have something new for us to try today, Ori,” Dwalin said gently,pulling the contraption out of his pocket. 

“It's okay, Mister Dwalin, you don't have to train me anymore, I'm not good at it.” 

“Every dwarf should know how to defend himself, lad,” Dwalin replied, offering the sling-shot to the boy. 

Ori glanced up, his eyes wide with surprise. He took the thing without his usual stream of questions. 

“Now, take a rock, put it in the sling and pull it back,” the guard instructed. He was shocked that Ori had the sling-shot loaded before he had even finished his sentence. 

The red-head pulled the sling back and fired, hitting low on a nearby tree. It wasn't perfect, but it was a start. 

“I did it, Mister Dwalin!” Ori announced excitedly, a grin plastered on his face.

“Aye, you did, lad. You did…” And he smiled


	4. Bifur

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 4 -Bifur. In addition to having an axe in his head, he also has synesthesia. He hears colours and sees smells, and some numbers are fluffy and others are scratchy. If he tried talking about it, people would decide he's even more crazy than they already think he is. But sometimes he has to explain, because nobody else has noticed that orc trails sound a bit like poisonous mushrooms growing in the dark depths of the forest, and if they'd just listen to him....

Bifur couldn't hold it in any longer, he had to tell someone, before their ignorance got them all killed. None of the others could hear the way he could, not since the accident. This quest was the first time that Bifur considered this particular side effect a blessing in disguise. Mirkwood tasted wrong to him, and despite the wizard's insistence that it was the only way, they would be lucky to escape with their lives.

He pulled at Bofur's coat, stopping his cousin in his tracks and moving away from the others. He started signing frantically, his hands almost shaking.

“Slow down!” Bofur answered, patting the older dwarrow on the shoulder. 

Bifur huffed, slowing his movements just enough for Bofur to understand him. 

“What do you mean, the trail sounds like poisonous mushrooms?” 

The older dwarrow signed again, trying to get his point across. He had tried to explain his senses to Bofur and Bombur both, but he always ended up sounding crazy. 

The axe in his head had left him with the ability to sense things in ways others couldn't. Things he once smelled, he could now see. Numbers and letters had colors and felt like things they had no business feeling like. Normally, he just went along with it, enjoying the different sensations, but the quest was bringing it out in ways he didn't have words for.

The hobbit's house had smelled like the number three and his voice had tasted like home cooking and wood smoke. His cooking felt like laughing children felt when Bifur made them toys. It was the reason he had decided to trust the furry-footed creature in the first place. 

Not all his senses were good or nice. He had felt the trolls long before the others saw them. They smelled like spikes and the color red. A bad sign, if there ever was one. He had tried to tell Bombur then, but his cousin had just looked at him strangely. They hadn't heeded his warning, and only by Gandalf's timely return, had they lived to see another day.

Bifur had liked the elves. He knew everyone thought him odd when he ate their green food, but it was the only thing that didn't taste like sadness and longing. He had enjoyed meat before his accident, but he could not eat it since. 

Bifur signed furiously again, trying to make Bofur understand. **This trail doesn't sound right.'** His fingers flew. **'We need to get out of here. Now!'**

He caught the others looking at him, he could taste their confusion like clouds of purple on his tongue. They all thought he was crazy, most people did. He couldn't fault them for it when at times, he thought so too.

Bilbo stopped and stepped towards the cousins. “What's he saying?” 

Bofur shrugged him off. “Nothing, nothing at all.” 

“It's not nothing,” Bilbo replied curtly. “He's clearly telling you something bad. Look at the way his hands are shaking” The hobbit mimicked some of the signs Bofur had taught him back at Bifur. The dwarf nodded his head enthusiastically, signing slowly back. 

By this time, the rest of the company had stopped, each looking from Bifur back to Bilbo. Thorin stepped forward, clearly concerned about the reason for their pause. 

“Why have we stopped?” the king said, his low voice tasting like harp strings as it rolled over Bifur's skin. 

“There's something wrong with this forest,” Bilbo responded. “We need to get out of here as soon as possible,” 

“We are, Master Baggins,” Thorin replied shortly. He eyed the hobbit suspiciously, his gaze straying towards Bifur. Bilbo moved in front of the dwarrow, blocking him from the king. He resumed walking and the rest of the company followed. 

The hobbit lagged back, walking next to Bifur. Bilbo signed crudely, his hand unsure of the shapes it was making, but Bifur understood the sentiment. 

**' Careful. Watch'** his fingers said, and when Bilbo took Bifur's hand, he felt like the color pink and the bite of new spring daises.


	5. Thorin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 5- Thorin - So what if he accidentally mentions (again) that he's not so bad with a bow after all, and he's a good hunter actually; hunting saved his life when Smaug came, because he'd been out hunting with Thror and his father. So he thinks they should go hunting with Kili some day, show him some tricks of the trade.... And then Kili drags him all through his forests, showing his dear uncle who's the best hunter in the Blue Mountains. The result - a wet, exhausted, grumpy and unusually quiet Thorin with pine needles and spider webs in his hair, and a sprained ankle where he slipped and fell in a ravine that was full of old leaves and sludge. Dis is laughing her ass off.

“You know I'm not bad with a bow,” Thorin stated, his fingers covered in grease. The future king had his elbows on the table, belly full of the brace of rabbits Kili had brought home from his hunting trip this afternoon. 

Kili looked at his uncle, then at his brother, and they both erupted in a fit of laughter.

Dis joined in on their giggles. “Brother, when was the last time you went hunting?” 

Thorin looked indignant. He put down the piece of meat he had been holding and wiped his hands on his pants . “I've been busy, sister-dear. Just because I don't have the time to go hunting, doesn't mean I'm not good at it,” he said, darkly eyeing his giddy nephews. “I bet I could even show the boys a thing or two.” 

His sister raised an eyebrow at him. He could tell there was another laugh threatening to spill from her lips. Fili and Kili were avoiding looking at their mother and uncle, clearly afraid of what would happen if they met their eyes. 

“I used to go hunting with Adad and Udad all the time when we were young, if you remember,” Thorin pushed. Hunting had saved his life in fact, he'd been hunting with his father and grandfather the day Smaug had razed Erebor. It was the only reason the three of them survived. 

“The next time I'm free at the forge, I'll take Kili hunting and we'll see.” 

His nephew grinned brightly, a mischievous smirk in his eyes. “Yes Uncle, yes we will.”

~~~~~~~~~~

The day Thorin had chosen for their hunting expedition turned out to be cold and cloudy, but Kili insisted it wouldn't be a problem. Thorin wasn't so sure, but it was too late to back out now. 

He had gone out intending to show Kili a trick or two of the trade, to teach him how it was really done. What he hadn't accounted for was his nephew showing him up. It painfully clear once Kili led them off the beaten track who was teaching who. 

He had not expected to end up soaked to the skin, treed like a bloody squirrel, waiting for game. He had not expected his nephew to know all the best places to catch pheasants and quail. And he had certainly not expected Kili to be so smug about all of it. 

“That's the wrong way to bait that kind of trap, Uncle.”

“You won't catch any rabbits like that, Uncle.”

“Try aiming higher, Uncle. You won't miss so much that way.”

Halfway through the afternoon, Thorin was tired and grumpy and just wanted to go home. He scrambled down the tree Kili had him stuck in, intent on leaving. 

“I'm going home,” he announced, throwing a dark look over his shoulder at his grinning nephew. 

“Uncle!” Kili shrieked. Thorin ignored him.

“Uncle!” he called a little bit louder. “Uncle!”

“WHAT KILI?” Thorin screamed back. His patience was stretched painfully thin. He took another step and just caught the look of horror on the younger dwarf's face before he started falling.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

“Not a word to your brother about this.”

“Yes, Uncle.” 

“Or your mother, especially your mother.”

“Yes Uncle.” His nephew stifled a laugh as they opened the door to their home. 

Thorin hobbled into the kitchen, hoping beyond all hope that his sister wouldn't be there. Sadly, he was sorely disappointed. Both his sister and his older nephew were sitting in the kitchen, apparently waiting for their return. 

Dis' eyes widened when she saw him, arm thrown over her younger son, hair covered with pine needles and spider webs and Mahal knows what else. Thorin scowled as he limped to the closest chair, babying his injured ankle. 

“What happened, brother?” Dis asked, her lip twitching. 

Thorin said nothing, wincing as Fili crossed the room and began assessing the damage, pressing fingers around the swollen joint, searching for breaks. 

“Nothing's broken,” he murmured, avoiding Fili's curious eyes. Dis rounded the table, watching her younger son and elder brother with great interest. 

“Did you catch anything, Thorin?” she asked, still trying badly to suppress her grin. Thorin scowled at her, still silent as a grave.

Dis turned to her son, giving him a wide, motherly smile. “What happened, my love?” she asked Kili gently, running her hand through her son's hair. 

Kili looked guiltily at Thorin and then back to his mother. 

_'Oh you witch,'_ Thorin thought. Kili was much easier to break than his uncle. If his sister couldn't get it out of her brother, she would easily get it out of her son. 

Kili clamped his mouth shut, as if he was afraid the words would spill out of their own accord. His eyes pleaded with Thorin to save him from his mother. Dis always got what she wanted, and this would be no exception. 

“Did Uncle teach you anything, little bird?” she stroked Kili's hair, scratching the boy's scalp, exploiting his weakness shamelessly. “Tell me, what happened?”

“Kili...” Thorin warned.

“Unclethorinfelldowntheravine,” his nephew admitted in one quick, treacherous? breath. 

Fili spit out what he was drinking, choking as he struggled to breathe through his giggles. Dis exploded in laughter, splitting her seams, her undignified howling ringing out clear across their tiny home. Kili joined in timidly at first, still unable to meet his uncle's eyes. 

Thorin groaned at the throbbing of his ankle as he surveyed his family. The king couldn't remember the last time he had seen them laugh this hard, their faces aglow with joy. 

Perhaps, he thought as he drunk in their laughter, their happiness was more than worth his hurt pride.


	6. Gloin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gloin always wanted a daughter, so when he found out he and his wife are having a baby girl, all his dreams have come true, or so he thinks.

Gloin tried taking deep breaths, he tried counting to ten, he had even tried the yoga positions his brother had taught him. Nothing short of restraints could make him sit still. He twitched, tapping his toes, fidgeting with the sheets, humming off-key. 

“You’re going to burst a blood vessel like that,” his wife teased from the bed, her huge stomach rippling as their baby moved inside of her. “She’ll come in her own time.”

“I wish it was sooner rather than later.” Gloin replied, smiling despite his nervousness. 

“This baby is stubborn, just like you, my love.” Dala laughed, rubbing her hands over the mound at her midsection. “The doctor said it should start speeding up soon. Our daughter will be here before you know it,”

~~~~~~~

 

It turned out that the doctor was right, at least in one matter. Her labor started just a little after nine pm. 

“C’mon baby, breath.” Gloin cheered, Dala squeezing his hand in a painful grip. Her face and neck were drenched in sweat. “Remember what they said at Lamaze.”

“Fuck Lamaze!” She cursed roundly, letting go of his hand to smack him across the face. “Why did you do this to me, you fucking bastard!”

At the end of the bed, between Dala’s spread thighs, the doctor laughed. “That’s tame compared to what I usually hear.” 

“That’s tame for her. Mouth like a sailor, my wife.” Gloin quipped back. It was one of the things that had first attracted him to Dala in the first place. 

She cried out as another strong contraction hit her. “ Never again.” She swore, as the pain rippled through her body. 

“You say that now. You won’t be the next time I kiss your-”

“Gloin!”

“I’m only kidding, baby,” He smiled, trying to keep her mind off of the pain and keep himself from breaking down. In truth, he was terrified. Terrified for her, and most embarrassingly, himself. Dala would make an amazing mother. She was warm and caring, everything a first time mother should be. 

He was much more worried about himself as a father. His own father had been cold and distant, when he was around, when he wasn’t passed out on the couch reeking of cigarettes and cheap whiskey. Oin, his brother, had done much more to raise him than Groin had ever done. Oin, who worked his fingers to to bone to make sure Gloin had new shoes for school, or dinner on the table, or the tutor he needed to graduate high school. Oin, who given up his own brilliant future in medical school to raise his wayward little brother. 

Dala’s painful shrieks as her baby’s head crested brought him back to reality. 

“I can’t do this, Gloin,” she cried, with tears sticking to her eyelashes. “I can’t do this!”

“Yes you can.” He smiled “If there’s anyone in the world who can, it’s you. Bring our daughter into the world, my love.” Gloin kissed her head, his hand squeezing her own. 

She screamed again, with the fullness of her lungs, a sound soon mirrored by the crying of their infant. 

“Oh Dala.” Gloin cooed, looking on as the doctor snipped the umbilical cord and handed the baby off to the nurse. “She’s gorgeous,” He could feel tears forming in his eyes. The nurse cleaning the baby started to chuckled.

“What? What is it?” the new father demanded, his emotions all over the place. 

“Nothing,” She replied lightly, smiling as she swaddled the wailing infant. “Except…you don’t have a daughter, he’s a little boy.” 

Gloin fainted.


	7. Fili

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 8- Fili-- The Originl prompt :Kili and Ori as dwarflings starting a lizard farm and then loudly complaining to Balin how all their lizards hatched after that hot summer are girl lizards. 
> 
> It evolved into the following fic... Sorry it got so far off topic

Fili sat with his chin in his hand, staring longingly out the window. He was drenched in sweat, his shirt sticking to his back. Balin was droning on and on, about some king or another. Fili had stopped listening a while ago, instead daydreaming about joining Kili and Ori in the river, helping with their self-inflicted summer project. 

Last night, Kili had come home from the market with Uncle Thorin, proclaiming he and Ori were starting a dragon farm. There had been a dwarf by the fish-monger’s stall selling lizard eggs, Thorin explained, and Kili intended to raise them. His brother had scowled at their uncle, insisting they weren’t lizards, they were dragons. Their mother had started chuckling, nuzzling Kili’s nose and sending him into a fit of giggles. His merry laughter had filled their small home, making Fili wish he could join in. 

But this summer saw the start of his lessons with Balin, the first step of his journey towards being his uncle’s heir. He was alone for the first time since Kili had been born, his brother being too young to join him yet. Kili had cried when he first found out, loud ugly sobbing into his big brother’s shirt, soaking it with snot and tears. But that was before Kili found Ori. 

Ori. Ori. Ori. That was all Fili was hearing since their first playdate. Ori this and Ori that. He was so sick of hearing about the little redhead. Every word that came out of Kili’s mouth was about Ori, and Fili couldn’t stand it!

His little brother had found a replacement for him. 

“Fili,” a voice broke into his head. “Fili, are you paying attention?”

The blond looked up into Balin’s smiling face, guilt sparking in his stomach. He had promised Uncle Thorin he would do his best at school, and here he was ignoring his teacher.   
“I’m sorry, Mister Balin,” he apologized, moping. “It won’t happen again.”

“I forget how young you still are, lad.” Balin rested a worn hand on Fili’s head. “Why don’t you go out and play with your friends?” 

Fili whooped, causing Balin to laugh. “Thank you, thank you!” he yelled, grabbing his books and running out the door. 

He found Kili and Ori up to their knees in mud by the river, gathering more supplies for their farm. The “dragon” lizards had begun hatching, and they needed to be fed.  
“Fee!” Kili called happily, running over towards him. Ori followed more quietly, his hands full of leaves and sticks. “Look what Ori found for our dragons!”

Fili frowned. Of course, the first words out of Kili’s mouth would be about his friend! Kili kept babbling about Ori, how Ori named all their their dragons Smaug, and how Uncle Thorin didn’t like it, and how Ori’s brother said he could sleep over tomorrow. 

Fili saw red. He couldn’t take it anymore. Without thinking, he pushed Kili onto the ground. 

“They aren’t dragons! They’re lizards, and they are for babies!” he yelled, stomping off and leaving his brother crying in the dirt. 

~~~~~~~

“Fili?” 

Fili was buried in his bed, covers pulled over his head, ashamed of what he'd done. When he didn't answer, his uncle opened the door and sat down on the bed next to him. 

“Do you want to talk to me about it?” Thorin said, gently stroking the lump that was his nephew. 

“No,” Fili mumured, knowing Thorin would yell at him for what he had done to Kili. He knew he wasn't supposed to push or put his hands on anyone. He was surely going to go without dessert for a month.

“Kili told me you pushed him.” 

The dwarfling stayed silent. He figured the less he said, the less trouble he would get into.

Thorin sighed. “Is this about Ori?” 

“NO!” Fili shrieked from beneath the blankets, unable to hold his tongue. Anger welled up hot in his chest. Thorin pulled the blanket back and looked down at his nephew. 

“Do you want to tell me what's going on?”

“Kili likes Ori better than me,” the blond said, snuggling closer to his uncle. 

“Why would you say that? You brother adores you.” Thorin stroked his nephew's hair lovingly.

“Not anymore! All he talks about is Ori, Ori, Ori!” 

“Your brother made a new friend. Of course he's going to be excited,” his uncle said. “Just because he's friends with Ori doesn't mean he doesn't love you anymore.”

“Humpfh!” Fili pouted. 

Thorin smiled, drawing his nephew out from under the covers and placing the dwarfling on his lap. 

“Let me tell you something about brothers, Fili,” Thorin started. “Your mother and I, we'll be gone some day, and there will only be the two of you. No matter what, you two will always have each other. Kili loves you, more than anything, and he always will. Ori may be his friend, but that boy will never replace his big brother.” 

The older dwarf clucked his finger under Fili's chin, lifting the child's face to look at him. “Apologize to your brother, okay?”

“Yes Uncle Thorin.”

“That's my boy.” He kissed the dwarfling on the head, before putting him down gently on the bed. Thorin smiled as he quietly closed the door, leaving his nephew alone with his thoughts. 

~~~~~~~  
Fili was almost asleep when he heard his bedroom door open and a small warm body slide under the sheets with him. 

“Fee?” Kili's trembling voice said, his grubby little hands clutching at Fili's night shirt. “I'm scared.”

“Shhhhh, Kee. It's okay,” Fili cooed, pulling his little brother against him. “I'm sorry for pushing you. I was angry you like Ori more than me.”

“I don't like Ori more than you,” Kili's hands were in Fili's hair now, wrapped tightly around his braids. “Ori's fun, but he can't protect me from the monsters, or make Uncle Thorin scream.” 

In the darkness, Fili smiled, his body tangled up with his little brother's. “I love you, Kili.”

“Love you too, Fee.” 

The dwarfling closed his eyes again, thinking about sleeping, but was interrupted by Kili again. 

“Fee?” 

“Yeah Kee?” 

“Wanna put lizards in Uncle Thorin's bed?”

Fili smiled, dropping a kiss on his brother's head.   
“Sure.”


	8. Dori

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 8 (25th): Dori - Dori. He loves his food and wines, but he is a horrible, horrible cook. Or, if you think that's been done before, then imagine he's terrible with money, completely incapable to ignore discounts, special offers and such. In a modern au his house would be full of discounted toilet paper rolls that were cheaper when bought in bulk.

“Do I have to go?” Ori whined, as Dori bundled him into his second-hand snow suit. 

“I need you to help me with the groceries,” the older brother said, making sure Ori’s mittens were snug on his hands. The last thing he needed was for the little boy to catch a cold. 

“Dori, we don’t need any more groceries. We’ve already got one hundred rolls-”

Dori pulled up Ori’s scarf so it covered his mouth, cutting him off mid-whine. “Tell you what, if you help me, I’ll cook my special macaroni and cheese for you. It’s your favorite, right?”

Ori nodded solemnly, but when his brother turned his back, he made gagging sounds behind the scarf. 

“Come on now, don’t want to be late,” Dori said, picking up his baby brother and stowing him in the back of the family station wagon. The thing had seen better days, but at least it ran. Dori slipped behind the wheel, turned the ignition and put the car in drive. 

~~~~~~

 

The wholesale club Dori frequented was a good half an hour from their house, but it was well worth the trip. He shuffled animatedly through the aisles, followed by a morose Ori. His brother had not stopped complaining since they got out of the car. 

“Dorriiii,” he groused. “We don't need diapers... I'm not a baby!”

“You never know who might need them, plus they're a hundred for only five dollars. That's a great deal!”

The youngster rolled his eyes as he trailed behind his brother. 

Dori continued his shopping, stuffing things in his cart. If his other brother were here, he'd be trying to put things back and fill his cart full of things that would make Ori laugh. But he didn't know where Nori was. His other younger brother had run away and Dori had only had a couple letters since he'd been gone. 

He couldn't help but feel guilty when he thought of Nori. Ori asked about him all the time, wanting to know where he was, when he'd be home and most heart-rendingly, if he was good, would he come back?

Dori loaded things into his cart without thinking, matching the items with the sales in the weekly circular. Ten pounds of potatoes, even though Ori didn't eat them, Twenty-five packs of blueberry muffins even though he was allergic, the types of candy Nori loved, even though he hadn't seen him in two years. The purchases would be filling his wagon, as if they could fill the holes in his heart. 

He was halfway across the store, his cart bulging with items, before he realized he hadn't heard his brother in awhile. He turned around, intending to ask about cereal, to find the youngster missing. 

“Ori?” he called down the breakfast food aisle. “Ori? Where are you?”

There was no answer. He dashed with his cart to the previous aisle, hoping his brother had just lagged behind, but no luck. The aisle was empty. Dori's heart began to pound in his chest, his mouth going dry. 

He backtracked over the last few rows, hoping to find Ori in his little blue snowsuit. Nothing. 

He was about to go to store security, when he heard a small sound from under the pile of groceries in his cart. He began digging, throwing his groceries every which way, his blood pounding in his ears. 

At the bottom of the carriage, was Ori, yawning, apparently having been woken up by his brother's calling after crawling into the wagon to sleep Dori scooped him against his chest, cradling him as if he were the most precious treasure. 

“Can we go home now, Dori?” 

“Anything you want.” 

“Can we get McDonald's then?”


	9. Ori

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ori -he's stranded on a lonely island, and the local bushmen totally fall in love with him, so he ends up as the scribe/loremaster, and is given three wives and his own hut. And, just because it's his luck, his brothers suddenly turn up to "save" him.

Ori had woken up lying in the sand, and his first coherent thought had been that Nori would never let him live this down. He already ragged on him constantly for going to college, for choosing anthropology for his major, for every stupid embarrassing thing he'd done since he was five years old. 

It was just his luck that the boat taking him to the site of the fieldwork lab had crashed, leaving him stranded God knows where. The rest of the crew and students were gone, and he was left with nothing but his pack. 

It had taken only a couple hours for the local bushmen to find him. At first he had been scared, but after it became clear they didn't want to eat or harm him, he had settled in quite nicely. Their language was very similar to the one he’d been studying as a part of his course load. Between what he knew and a crude form of pantomime, they got along alright. 

Once he had given up worrying about the fates of the others, or about being rescued, he was ravenous for all the lore and knowledge he could get his hands on. Even if he'd lost most of his supplies, he’d managed to salvage a few water-stained notebooks, and he dutifully wrote down everything he could. 

Weeks passed quickly for Ori, and before he knew it, the bushmen had set him up in his own hut with three wives, although the grad student didn't avail of the “services” they tried to offer him. However, they cooked better than Dori, and it made him less homesick to have someone mother him like his older brother had.

He’d repeatedly tried to explain to the three houris that they didn’t need to do anything for him. They got upset with him, insisting that they were bad wives if he didn’t want them. The flustered student tried to reassure them, but it didn’t do anything to stop them from trying to trick him into their beds. 

He liked them, they were all pleasant girls, but sex wasn’t like that for him. He at least wanted to know the person first. Or at least he would, if he’d ever had the opportunity. 

Another packed day of research found the young loremaster, as he was now titled, cuddled up in his bed reading over his notes. There was a familiar knock on the door, signaling one of his wives coming in to check on him before they retired. 

The eldest of the girls stuck her heard in, her long dark hair falling in sheets to her waist. She was followed quickly by the other two, closing the door softly behind them. 

Ori looked up from his book curiously. Normally, they came in one by one to say their good nights, never together. Something was afoot, he realized far too late, as they came closer and closer to his bed. 

They surrounded his cot quickly, looking down at him with their huge dark eyes. Before he knew it, they were all in bed with him, in various states of undress. He yelped, suddenly pulled into a mischievous huddle of pert, brown breasts and strong hips and nice, round asses, he tried to explain that they didn’t need to do anything, that they were free to be happy and go about their life as they wished, but they just giggled and continued what they were doing. 

They quickly stripped him of his shirt, and Ori lost track of whose hands were whose as he tried to wriggle away from them. They pretty much ignored whatever he was saying, so he tried saying it with his body, although his body was betraying him as well. Try as he might to do what he considered the right thing, the student was a young, healthy male, and there definitely was some anthropologically justified level on which he was enjoying very much what they were doing, especially when the youngest of his brides began kissing his neck. 

He was so involved in his own internal struggle, he didn’t even notice the struggle coming from outside his door until it spilled into his hut. 

“Ori…?!” a familiar voice called. The student almost didn’t believe he was hearing it. “Ori!”

The red-head poked his head out of the tangle of limbs just enough to see Dori and Nori looking at him with matched flabbergasted expressions. 

Ori could feel his blush spreading down his cheeks and slowly overtaking his entire body. 

“Uhh… Hi?” 

Nori began to laugh, a full belly laugh that filled the whole hut with joy. Dori, on the other hand, was not as amused —had they been in a cartoon right now, there would be steam coming out of his ears. The women cowered, grabbing the sheets to cover their nakedness from the strange newcomers. 

Dori opened and closed his mouth several times in succession before actual words came out.

“We came to rescue you,” Dori shouted, trying to have his voice heard over Nori’s manic giggling. His middle brother was red in the face with exertion, holding his belly. 

“He clearly doesn’t need to be rescued,” Nori waggled his eyebrows at Ori, sending a fresh blush over his features. 

Ori opened his mouth to say that he did, but something stayed his words. He had missed his siblings something fierce, but a part of him didn’t want to leave. He had his own life here, a life that wasn’t at all driven by Dori’s overprotectiveness or Nori’s recklessness, a life that he’d made for himself, being valued for who he was. 

“N-n-no I don’t,” he stuttered. 

Dori’s eyes opened wide at his little brother. He’d never stood up to him before. Nori smirked, grabbing the elder around the shoulders. “C’mon, Dori, let’s leave him to his business then.”

“But… But… but,” Dori mumbled, looking at Ori, to his wives, and back to Ori again. 

Nori pushed the uncooperative Dori out of the hut door before glancing back at his little brother again. 

“Can you find a hut for me?”


	10. Nori

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 10 (27th): Nori-  Company finds out he's the accidental hero of some god forsaken village. Think Jaynestown

They were a full two days out of Hobbiton when they stopped in a village of Men for the first time. It was a forsaken village, poor, derelict and dangerous, according to Bilbo, who only knew of it by its reputation. 

Nori, for one, relished the occasion to stretch his legs after being on a pony for so many hours, as well as an opportunity to “experience the local culture”, or at least that was the excuse he gave Dori. He’d been to this town once before, a very long time ago and he’d made some bad enemies. Getting a feel for his surroundings might save his life. 

He was glad to slip away from the rest of the company, hating the watchful eyes that were always on him, especially Dwalin. The guard knew his reputation well, from years upon years of trying to catch the thief. Nori knew the bigger dwarf didn’t trust him as far as he could throw him, and that was alright by Nori. Alone he could avoid attention, while the lot of them didn’t even know the meaning of the word discretion. 

The thief spent a little time just watching the bustle before diving right in. He was slinking past the town square when his brother’s laughter caught his attention.

Ori was looking at a wooden statue, surrounded by the rest of the company. Their laughter echoed off the surrounding structures, attracting the attention of the townsfolk.

Nori crept into the crowd to find being stared at by himself. The statue was of him, perfect down to every detail, his signature hairstyle, his eyebrow braids, the details on his beads. For once in his life, the dwarrow was completely at a loss for words. 

When he finally got hold of his tongue, his first action was to grab Ori by the sleeve and drag him away from the rest of the company.

“We need to get out of here,” he whispered, pulling the collar of his tunic up over his face. “Now!”

Ori looked up at him. “Why is there a statue of you here?” he asked earnestly. 

“It doesn’t matter,” Nori huffed. “We need to lay low if we’re to get out of here alive.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Evening found the company settled in one of the seedier local pubs, hunkered down unnoticed in a corner, by Nori’s express insistence. Most of the others had just shrugged off his warning as unneeded paranoia. The red-head kept his cloak over his head, covering his trademark hairstyle. 

The thief was finishing his last drink when some of the townsfolk started singing. The tune was catchy, Nori thought, his foot tapping along with the beat. It was in homage to some do-gooder who had saved the townspeople by giving them bags of money stolen from the thieving rich. 

“Sounds like a bore,” the red-head joked, turning to Ori. 

The next lines caused him to spit out his ale.

_“To see his back we were sorry, the hero of our town... A dwarf they call Nori!”_

The rest of the company all looked up from their drinks, eyes boring into him. 

Gloin's voice, thick with drink, rang out over the din of the pub. “We know Nori, he's right over there,” he announced loudly, pointing to where Nori was huddled. “Member of our company, he is.” 

Nori tried to hide, but it was in vain. The townspeople surrounded him, shaking his hand and blessing him for his good works. It was around the third kiss when he realized they weren’t going to hurt him, and he began to relax and enjoy himself. He was scooped up by the men, who carried him off for another drink. As drink after drink was pressed into his hand, he knew it was going to be a long night. 

When they stumbled up to their rooms for the night, Dwalin grabbed Nori around the shoulder, hauling the smaller dwarrow up the stairs. 

“It would seem I misjudged you, lad,” the warrior said, slurring his words a little. 

Nori just smiled as the guardsman tripped into his room, only to be cornered by his brothers. 

Ori was looking at him with eyes shining in admiration. His other brother's face, however, was exactly the opposite. He knew Dori hadn’t believed the stories for a minute. Hmm! Some brother, he was! 

“What really happened?” he asked later, after Ori had gone to bed. Nori turned to him, a smile on his face. 

“Whatever do you mean, brother?” 

Dori gave him a disapproving look as he went to join Ori, knowing that if Nori didn’t want to tell him, he wouldn’t. The elder brother had tried to get his brother to talk before, but the manipulation techniques that caused Ori to spill everything, never worked on his middle brother. 

Nori stayed up a bit more, having a relaxing smoke by the fire, laughing to himself. 

Who knew an accidentally dropped bag of stolen coins would earn him a night of free drinks?


	11. Bofur

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 11 (28th): Bofur- His only family is Bifur (whose own was killed by orcs, whence the axe in his head) and Bombur (who has a wife and a bunch of kids). Then, some street urchin he gave a toy asks if he wants to be his dad.

It was a slow day in Ered Luin for the toymaker. The winter had been harsh and long, and there were few with coin in their pockets for the frivolities he sold. Still he kept making them, if only to see the smiles on the faces of the children. Bofur took a block of wood and set to work, sitting by the window, watching the market patrons walk by. 

It was quite a while before the toymaker noticed him, the little dwarfling with the patched, dirty sweater. The boy was there every day, marking the shop glass with his grubby hands as he stared open mouthed at the wonders in the window. No one ever came to claim him, no mother wiping his running nose with her sleeve, no father plucking him from the ground to take him on his   
shoulders. 

Bofur had watched him for weeks, as he begged to survive, shooed from the doorsteps of most shops. The toymaker had been surprised the lad had survived the winter. Most days he would simply ignore him, or maybe give him scraps if he had any, but today Bofur decided was different.  
   
He had barely gotten any sleep last night. Bifur had had another nightmare, screaming for the whole household to hear. When Bombur rushed to comfort his children, the toymaker had gone to comfort his cousin. The older dwarrow had been sobbing when Bofur found him, crying his lost son’s name over and over like a desperate prayer. It was while getting Bifur back to sleep that Bofur had thought about the little urchin, and how strange it was, in a culture where children were so prized, for that little one to be so alone.

Bofur put down his work and went to the back of his shop, rummaging through the bin he kept for scrapes. It was here they put toys that had become too battered to sell. Pulling one such toy, he hurried to the front window, and, checking to see if the child was still there, went to the door. 

The dwarfling looked up at him with terrified eyes, moving slowly away as if he would make a run for it. 

The toymaker knelt down, holding the toy in his palm. It was a carefully constructed dwarven soldier, bruised and chipped by too many eager little hands. He had intended to use some of its moving pieces for other toys. 

“Come here,” Bofur said gaily, offering the soldier again. “It's for you.”

The little boy carefully took it, his eyes glued to Bofur. Examining the little soldier, he smiled and then flung himself into the toymaker's arms. The older dwarrow was stunned at the sudden display of affection, but hung on tightly, laughing at the boy’s eagerness.

“Mister,” the urchin said suddenly, looking up at Bofur balefully. “Will you… will you be my Adad? Don't got one of those...”

Bofur was floored by the child's request. 

The toymaker had always wanted children, had wanted a family of his own, ever since he was a dwarfling himself, but with dwarrowdames being as scarce as they were, he had never had the chance. Instead, he played doting uncle to Bombur's brood of babies, played dutiful cousin to Bifur, acting as his translator and link to the outside world. He had never regretted any of it, rejoicing in his family after so many were lost, Bifur's wife and child among them. 

Children were rare and precious among dwarf-kind, being so few in number. Yet here was a child, who had no one, reduced to begging for scraps in the streets. He didn't have much, but he could share what he had. 

The little boy was still in the toymaker's arms, staring at him pitifully. There were tears welling up in his eyes, sorrow written all over his small, dirty face. He tried to back away, clearly thinking the older dwarf's silence meant he was being rejected. 

Bofur stood up and took the little boy's hand. The dwarfling broke into nervous hiccups, looking from his hand to Bofur's face. 

“Aye, lad. I think I can do that,” Bofur smiled, leading the child into the warmth of his shop. “Now, would you like some tea?”


	12. Balin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 12 (29th): Balin- Late to an important meeting with Thror, Thrain and Thorin, he rushes in, clutching some important papers and letters, and opinions, but not realizing that Dis, who he had been babysitting before that, has made something completely crazy on his head as he had accidentally dozed off in a chair, and now his hair is sticking up in clumsy braids and knots. Maybe a flower or ribbon stuck in there too. So the men sit down and talk stuff, while Thorin has to unbraid all that mess before Dale messengers arrive...

The adviser cursed, running along the corridor, his papers clutched protectively against his broad chest. He'd dozed off babysitting the little princess and was running late for his meeting with the King. The dwarves he passed in the hallways were giving Balin strange looks, but he simply shrugged it off. He was adviser to the King, of course it was rare to see him running anywhere. 

They were meeting with an envoy from Dale regarding the pending trade agreement Balin had barely slept the past few weeks as they ironed out the last remaining details. It had not been easy, each group involved, including the elves of the Woodland Realm, wanting their own cut. It was not surprising he had fallen asleep, even without Dis running around like a wild thing. 

As an adviser, babysitting was not in his job description, but he found he couldn't say no to the little princess. Being the first princess born into the line of Durin, Dis had even the most dignified members of King Thror's court wrapped around her finger. Anything she wanted, she got. 

Balin had been reading... well, trying to read when he'd dozed off. Dis kept interrupting him with all kinds of questions, like she did every second of every day. He had never met a more inquisitive child. Her brothers had been curious, especially Thorin, but none to this level. 

The dwarrow smiled as he hurried, remembering the princes as dwarflings. Thorin might be a serious young dwarf now, but the prince had been a bright, happy child, and Frerin had been a joy as well. The pair of them together were a nightmare though. The kingdom had never seen a more mischievous set, and Balin doubted he would ever know another like them. At least, he very much hoped so.

Balin burst through the doors, breathing heavily. “I am sorry, your majesties, for my lateness. I've brought the documents you asked for.”

The three royals looked wide-eyed at the adviser, stopped midway through their tasks. Thrain's lip twitched as if he was holding something back. Prince Thorin looked down quickly, his shoulders shaking with some unknown emotion. 

The king did not show the same restraint as his son and grandson. Thror burst out laughing, shaking all over. 

Balin felt cold shame seep into the pit of his stomach. He put the papers down on the table and lowered his eyes. 

“Balin, my friend,” the King spoke, still chuckling to himself, “what have you done to your hair?”

“M-my hair, Sire?” 

Thorin and Thrain were laughing out loud now.

“Were you with my sister by any chance?” said Thorin through his laughter. 

Balin was still confused. He had attended to his hair that morning and he had only been dozing with the princess. “Yes, I was, my Prince. I don't see how that-”

“Look in the mirror, Balin,” Thorin interrupted, still smirking. 

The adviser moved to one of the mirrored panels and finally saw what the other dwarves were laughing about.

His normally well-kept hair was a bird’s nest of tangles and debris. Dis had apparently thought his coiffure wasn't good enough and decided to fix it before his meeting. There were clumsy braids every which way, tied off with pink satin ribbons, that he guessed were the princess's own. Among the plaits, there were wilted flowers woven in haphazard knots. He would never get it out by himself in time, and he still had to prepare the King and his heirs before the envoy arrived. 

“My lords, if you'd excuse me, I'll just go-”

“Sit down, my friend,” the young prince laughed again, plucking a flower from the adviser's hair. “Start talking and I'll do the rest.”


	13. Bombur

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day 13 (30th): Bombur — He lied when he said he dreamt of food after he fell into the Enchanted river. He actually had a terrifying and completely ridiculous nightmare about finding the One Ring and having to cast it into Mount Doom.

“So what did you really see when you fell into the Enchanted River, Bom?” Bofur asked his cousin when they were finally alone in Laketown. “Was it really food, or was it something else?”

The cook hesitated. Bofur and the others would laugh at him if he told them what he had really dreamed about. Instead, he had told them he had seen a woodland feast, a great table laden with every kind of food imaginable. He had described great mugs of malt beer and red meat off the bone, exotic meat-based dishes, big, fat nut pastries dotted with cream. 

He had made it all up, told them what they wanted to hear, because he didn't know how to explain what he’d actually seen. It had seemed so real, but he knew it wasn't, it couldn't be. 

The dream had come to him in a swirl of sights and sounds, feelings and smells that shook him to the core. 

It had started in the Shire, in Bag-End, to be precise, with a party of unexpected proportions. The cook could practically smell the food, tasting the sweetness from the pies and richness of the meat on the back of his tongue. He could feel the buzz and excitement of the crowd, the crackle of magic making his hair stand on end as it zapped sharply across his skin. 

And then he saw Bilbo, although not as he knew him. The burglar had grown plump and grey with age, his face softened by wrinkles and his hands dotted with liver spots. The hobbit was giving a rather lively speech in a most bombastic manner, so unlike his younger self Bombur had to listen again to make sure they were really one in the same. As his speech drew to a close, he saw the hobbit fidget, slip something over his finger and disappear. The dwarf was tossed, arse over teakettle, into another blur of motion, landing in yet another location he had different memories of. The House of Elrond had not changed since the time he had seen it. It was still serene and stuffy, too rich for the likes of him. 

Bilbo was there again, looking much older and worse for wear. There were others he knew as well: Gandalf, much the same as he always was, and Gloin and his lad, their eyes full of concern and sorrow he had never seen. 

The air in Rivendell was seeping with gravity as Elrond drew the unlikeliest of creatures around him. Men and Elves. Dwarves and Men and Halflings, all gathered to a secret meeting of special importance. 

One of the younger hobbits put something down on the pedestal in the middle of the council and Bombur felt a great cloud of fear descend on him. It smothered him, rendering him unable to move or breathe. He watched in terror as the council erupted in chaos around him, the ring only giving up its hold over the dreaming dwarf when it was taken from sight. 

Bombur held his breath as the council condensed into a fellowship, only nine to undertake the destruction of the Ring and the harrowing path the would follow. 

He watched in stricken terror as Moria had separated them, after Gandalf had fallen into flame, and as the elves gave them shelter, and then the man of Gondor died trying to protect two of the little ones from their fate. Two of the hobbits had set out alone, taking their own way. The trails of the company divided like branches of a tree. Places and people he had never seen flashing in hypnotic esthesis before his eyes, bombarding him with second-hand sensations, threatening to drive him mad.

~~~~

“Nothing, Bof, just the feast,” the dwarf answered, sucking in another heavy breath on his pipe. They were sitting on a balcony, their legs swinging over the edge. After the horrors of their flight from Mirkwood, it was good to be able to just relax. 

Bofur eyed him skeptically, putting his own pipe down. Bombur wouldn’t meet his cousin’s eyes. He knew that if he did, the toymaker would be able to tell he was lying and he’d end up spilling the whole story. Instead, he played with the tip of his pipe between his teeth, losing himself in the memories of his dream again. 

~~~~~

The two lone hobbits set out along a river, later to be lead to Mordor by this strange creature Gollum. He could tell that the ring around the ringer-bearer's neck grew heavier and heavier with each step, playing evil tricks on his mind. Bombur watched in trepidation as he lashed out as his companion. There were times when the dwarf felt the ring as well, burrowing into the crevices of his soul. It was a terrifying path, and sometimes he found himself hoping they were caught, just so the paralyzing fear and anxiety would end. The dwarf tried to wake himself up over and over again, convinced this was some sort of terrible dream, but unable to get out of it. 

There were reeking marshes, with dead faces of elves and men staring up at them from the stinking bogs. They were captured by men of Gondor, faced the fell beasts of Mordor, but the worst, by far, was the spider. 

Gollum had led the halflings into a dank tunnel, claiming it was the quickest way to the Black Gate, though Bombur couldn’t quite remember what that was. The creature had had other reasons for doing so; the dwarf tried to warn the hobbits, but they could not hear him. The details of what happened next were hazy to him, brightening into focus and fading again as the pair fought Shelob. Dazed and dizzy himself, Bombur watched as the companion carried the ring-bearer the last leg of the journey, up the slope of the mountain. 

The ring-bearer fought himself with ever movement, until he was staring into the swirling reds and yellows of the lava that awaited beneath. He slipped the chain over his head, fully intending to toss it in but He didn't, his eyes glazed over, in hypnotized madness.

 _Why should I give it up?_ A nasty hissing parody of the ring-bearer's voice murmured. _It is mine, my own, my preciousssss…_ Bombur could hear it in his own head, the voice ringing harshly in his ears. 

“Throw it in please,” the dwarf begged, even though he knew his cries would go unheeded. As he caught sight of the ring again, excruciating pain flashed through his head, sending the normally stoic dwarf to his knees. 

The ring-bearer turned back around, barely hearing the other hobbit scream at him. Instead of ending the nightmare, the hobbit slipped the ring past his knuckles and disappeared. 

He had not expected Gollum to tackle the ring-bearer , to fight him. He knocked the hobbit to the ground, his fiendish hands closing around the ring. The dwarf had tried to fight the pain now beating like a second pulse but the dream was fading in and out, rendering him unable to move. He had not expected the creature to pull both himself and the hobbit screaming into the lava, clawing at each other for the ring, instead of trying to fight for their lives.

Bombur had been relieved when he woke up, surrounded by the members of his company, to know that all he’d been seeing was only a dream, and a horrible, unrealistic one at that. 

~~~~~~~

“Nothing but the feast,” he reiterated, as if trying to convince himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for sticking with me through this whole thing. Your comments and kudos kept me going when it got hard.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to my wonderful Beta, Beng and Themightaidean for starting this!


End file.
